Alibi High

But, apparently, not important enough for her to get her butt in the audience. Or on the stage.

I 'd half-thought sighed. I'd actually thought about asking her to participate, have her be the closing act, because I thought it would've been funny and because I thought it would've show ed n her commitment.

My hands tightened around the keys gripped in my hand. I guess I clearly should've just asked her to make sure if she'd be there planned to attend . Because I'd assumed that was a foregone conclusion.

That old saying about assuming came to mind.

A fresh surge of anger flared inside of me. Why should I have been busting my rear end for something the president of the school wasn't even didn't deem ing important enough to be at? Why would anyone take it serious if the face of the school wasn't even going to be there? For all the importance that people seemed to be placing on it, I should've just suggested a bake sale. People could've dropped stuff off and left. They wouldn't have had to make a commitment. Because that was apparently too much to ask.

I shoved the key in the ignition . with more force than necessary.

I could walk in the next morning and quit. Just drop it all on her desk and tell her that I was done and she could arrange her own fundraiser. And if she gave me a hard time about her it , I could dish her own words right back at her: tell her that something had suddenly c a o me that required my attendance and there was nothing I could do to get out of it , t . And then wait for hen watch her reaction. I honestly didn't know what it would be. Was she serious about th is e fundraiser being a big deal or had it just been a lot of bluster to make it look like she cared?

I sighed and s u a nk further into my seat. I knew I wouldn't do that. I'd committed to the project and I'd finish it up. I knew that there was obviously some truth that the school needed the money and even if she Evelyn Bingledorf wasn't going to be there, I knew that it still had the potential to drive donations. I wouldn't bail out. It wasn't me.

I shifted into reverse and backed out of the stall parking space .

I glanced over at the school , . The name of the school glowed green above the entrance the bright green lights that illuminated the school's name above the entrance already turned on. , illuminating the set of double doors beneath it.

I wouldn't bail out.

But I didn't have to be happy about it.

TWENTY EIGHT

As I left the lot, Jake texted me as I pulled out of the lot , asking me to stop at the store to grab another jar of spaghetti sauce. He was making dinner and we were out of sauce. I appreciated the fact that he was making dinner, so I didn't complain about having to make a quick stop at the store for groceries .

I was halfway to the store when I glanced to my right and saw the illuminated sign for Data Dork. Before I could talk myself out of it , , before I could remind myself that Jake was waiting for sauce and the kids were waiting for their mom and I didn't care anymore about the fundr aiser or the missing computers, I changed lanes, made a right hand turn and maneuvered the car into the lot.

The dim lights behind the dirty front window were still on and I could see someone inside the store. The stores around it other businesses in the strip mall were already closed and I mine was the only car in the lot. I shut off the engine and got out, my feet crunching against the loose gravel that covered the as hp ph alt , the only sound in the quiet lot. .

A tiny bell jingled when I opened the door to the store and stepped inside. It was a long narrow room, with counters that ran in a U-shape around the interior. The shelves behind the counters were filled with a mish - mash of things – computer monitors, keyboards, cords, printers . A , a nything that had to do with a compute r rs . The old carpeting beneath my feet was thin, like a shaggy blanket that had been laid directly on top of the concrete flooring, sans pad felt like it had been laid on top of the concrete without a pad. , and the paint on the walls was a washed out, sun-faded yellow. It was the kind of place that felt like it should've closed a decade earlier, but had stubbornly stayed open for no other reason than to stay open. Soft music drifted from a back room , behind the guy standing at the back counter. and an old televisio n was tucked in the corner of the counter, a baseball game n.

The man behind the counter offered me a smile. His sparse hair was buzzed short His buzzcut seemed to design the fact that he didn't have much hair to buzz, his bald pate shiny in the light. Glasses that appeared to be about twenty years old hung around his neck, attached to a metal chain. H and h is buttoned - down flannel shirt was rolled up to his elbows, the buttons down the middle fighting to hold in a his ample potbelly. He smiled at me with coffee-stained teeth and green eyes rimmed with dark circles and a face that had been shaved that morning.

“Evening,” he said, pulling the glasses up onto his nose on a chain around his neck and positioning a pair of glasses on his nose . “How can I help you?”

“Are you by any chance Harold?” I asked.

“I am one and the same ,” he said. His smile widened, revealing coffee-stained teeth. “And you are?”

“Daisy,” I replied. “Daisy Savage.”

Even behind the ancient glasses, I could see the recognition in his eyes. “Oh, yes. From Prism. My wife told me she spoke with you.” He held out a hand with thick fingers and I noticed his bitten-down nails . “I'm Harold.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking hands with him.

We stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“So,” he finally said. “What brings you in tonight?”

Fair question. It was a fair question but, if I'd answered honestly, it would have taken an hour to explain. “Well, I was just on my way home and Harriet told me about your store, so I wanted to...come be and see it . si Si nce I've never been in before .” ,” I finished lamely.

He nodded, as if he'd heard that a lot. He adjusted the his glasses on his nose and looked around the store . “ I Well, i t's not much, but it's mine.” He paused. “And God willing, it'll stay that way for awhile longer. Hard to compete with the bigger box stores and the online companies. ”